Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Yesterday on the way to the grocery store, it was hard for me to make a right at the four way stop because of the woman who was jogging slowly in the street. Our eyes met and I thought to myself for a second about how dangerous it was for her to be so close to my car. I knew her ! She was the little girl who used to walk past my car when I was the carpool mom at middle school. There was something different about her back then. The other kids would walk in droves, talking over each other, yelling, some cussed and some flirted, all this to my observing eyes.This girl seldom had a friend. She was so black, like a crayola black. Her walk was purposeful as if she treasured the way each step felt to her feet and when she walked past my car, she wasn't afraid to look me in the eyes and smile. I looked forward to our daily exchange and wondered who was the white lady in the red station wagon that gave her a ride. Sometimes I felt mad at the woman because she was always on a cell phone laughing and from my view, it didn't seem like she paid any attention to the girl.

I usually wore my old paint clothes to pick up my kids because I was a faux painter while they were in school. My nails were dirty and sometimes paint was still on my face in spots.This embarrassed me and I probably spent way too much time dwelling on the negative. It was my most complaining day when I found out about the black girl. Her name was Hawa. She was living in the United States with a foster family. The muddled story was that when she was nine years old, she was playing outside with her friends while her mother washed clothes in the river. All of a sudden, they were brutally attacked by men who ambushed them with machetes, slashing their tiny bodies into pieces. Hawa pretended to be dead so the men left but she was alone in the outdoors next to her friends and mother for a week before anyone rescued her.
Nobody talked about this at school. All of her fingers were gone on both hands. She was made to fit in, become a student at Mission Valley middle school and on my complainiest day is when she told her classmates in a delicate whisper, "I am so thankful to have a thumb! It lets me hold my paint brush because some day, I am going to be an artist!"
Needless to say, I learned to keep my mouth shut about stupid things that do not matter.

....Loving what is, ends suffering~ Dov Fishman

I heard she's married and has small children of her own. Probably a very good artist too, the kind of artist who knows gratitude.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

I want to go outside
with incense and dream
a poet's dream.
Summer packed her
bags last week and
left me here alone.
The blinking yellow lights
are gone and darkness
hides the moon.
Smoke swirls and sways
as if to say
"it's all a poet's dream."

Friday, August 19, 2011

"Grace, Mercy and Forgiveness will help a man walk tall. Walk tall!" ~ John Mellencamp

To the human eye, that man doesn't have his s**t together. What is he thinking? Or not thinking? Lady at the office said he parked on a busy road once to help her dog that had been hit by a car when other drivers honked at him. He struggled to pick the wounded dog off the road she said, because of his own hip pain but went ahead and put the dog in the back of his truck and delivered her dog to the house. They had to put down the dog because its back had been broken. He risked his life on that curve and the dog died anyway, what was he thinking asked the human eye.
Why doesn't that man have a job asks the human eye? Nobody makes it in the woods. If only that man would leave his awful woman, his life would change for the better. D*mn! What is he thinking?

And then the angelic eye took over. Look beyond! Pause, breathe, observe. It saw his gentle smile, his sense of humor and depth of compassion. The language of the trees became audible. "We give oxygen" they whispered, "we are the healers." To the angelic eye, the man is in his perfect place. Listen, the awful woman tells her story and the angelic eye sees a wounded animal. Her pain is at a depth that a human ear would want to quiet but the angelic eye is stronger and sees the bigger picture. He is the kindest man she has ever known and the angelic eye understands their soul connection. All is well in the big woods on the outskirts of town.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

How many what the hecks! are in a day? (sorry English teachers) My dream told me I had five miracles yesterday. What the heck! If they show up as people, then yes, I did. If they show up as hard rain before my road trip this week and I don't have anyone to water my flowers, then yes, miracle. The trip was delayed by one day which means I can still take my pre-paid cooking class at Whole Foods tonight, sweet!

Are miracles supposed to be big like winning the lottery before claiming bankruptcy? Or walking after being in a coma for years? That's probably why we go through the day without noticing the little ones. Last night, my dad was telling the story about the time he and my brother in law were roofing the house on the hottest day of summer one year. This was a Sunday and at the time in our town when the liquor stores were closed. They both commented on how good an ice cold beer would taste right about now. There was a truck driving on his street and something fell out the back. They kept working on the roof and saw two kids walk over to the package and placed it off the road and on the sidewalk. Curiosity crept in so they opened the container and found it full of tall (glass even!) long necked bottles of iced beer. None of the bottles were broken. Have to say, that was probably a big one.

Before writing this story, my mind was firing too quickly. There was pain in my head, sinuses and left temple. Road trip with my parents? Slow drive to China? I eat little meals of greens, nuts and fruits. They like three square meals a day starting with sausage and eggs but I love them. I wouldn't be here without them. How many more years do I have with them as their daughter? Help! I need a sign, I need music! The computer has a different idea. It says, "Jim! He's dead" and then starts to slowly shut down my Dr. Sha video I am watching. What the heck! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eopCkaIYfcg&feature=youtu.be I feel a miracle coming, try not to judge, try not to judge. The computer restarts. There is Dr. Sha again but he has company. Ashana is here too singing! http://www.ashanamusic.com/music.html together. It's so funny. I am in silent gratitude of this miracle. Different sounds speaking the same language. My body resonates with goose bumps, washing my worries. There is no pain in my head, all has been lifted. Flow has been restored.

So what is your miracle for today? I hope you have fun noticing them because they are everywhere.